


Don’t You Know, Don’t You Know

by ElvenRose



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Are they OC? Probably. Do I care? Not so much, Don’t post on other sites, Fingon I feel you, Funny how this is actually from Fingon POV and I managed to talk about Maedhros more, Fëanorian brothers or: the spares, Gen, I don’t hate Fingon, Maedhros you self-sacrificing idiot, They could have been more than friends, all of them - Freeform, and now things will never be the same, but I wanted him to lash out, but it was never the right time, english is not my first language, my heart bleeds for them, they went through pretty bad moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26973127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenRose/pseuds/ElvenRose
Summary: Sometimes we do terrible things to prevent those we hold dear from sinking with us.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Don’t You Know, Don’t You Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daughterofshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofshadows/gifts).



> This is for daughterofshadows. With her beautiful gift she made me cry, and actually managed to coax me back to writing!  
> You made me the happiest with “Colours of a life well-lived”, I hope this will be a good enough thank you. You said italics are your guilty pleasure, I tried at the best of my possibilities to do them honor! 
> 
> The title refers to the poem “As if in a dream” by Li Qingzhao (1084-1155).  
> The feeling the poem tries to generate is the sense of a lot of sadness about flowers dying at the end of spring. The main meaning is that life is short, youth is short, good time is short. Nothing can stay the same forever. 
> 
> The translation in this story was given by a friend of mine, for an academic one I suggest you to check the translation by Karen An-Hwei Lee.  
> I’m not a scholar of Ancient China’s literature, for a better explanation of the meaning of the poem go to this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTJjHeImz7I&t=193s (from minute 8’10 onwards). 
> 
> ***  
> I don’t own The Silmarillion or its characters.

**_Last night, gusty wind and rain_ **

**_My deep sleep did not spoil the wine’s lingering effect._ **

**_When I asked someone, they rolled the blind up and told me that the crabapple trees are as before._ **

****

The air feels heavy inside the tent.

A dark-haired elf keeps pacing back and forth, an air of distress and rage around him, his usually cheerful self and bouncy personality gone.

_But that was before, and now, now nothing is like before._

“Do you really not blame them?” His words are laced with incredulity and bitterness.

“For what?” The voice who answers him comes from a tall and grim figure in the corner of the tent. 

“Are you seriously asking me that? They left you! Abandoned you to torment and torture for decades!”

“They did what I asked them to” the tone doesn’t leave room for questioning.

“They should have tried nonetheless. You are their lord!”

“King” Silver eyes meet ice-blue ones, and there’s none of the warmth that once filled them.

“What?” he asks, dreading what will come next.

“I’m their king, your king, cousin. You'll better remember that”.

_A lashing would have hurt less._

He doesn’t know what to say, he _doesn’t know_ who the elf in front of him is anymore.

“I thought I knew you” he whispers.

_He turns and makes to leave, desperately hoping that he’ll be stopped, that something, everything, will make thing as they were._

“Findekáno” Nelyafinwë’s voice halt him.

_When did he stop being Finno?_

“By now you should know what it means to carry the burden of leadership. You are valiant cousin, and I’m grateful for what you did, but you now have the lives of thousands on your hands; I suggest you start to think about your actions deeper and more wisely than before.”

_It hurts so much he almost cannot breath._

“If it means to go against my values, I don’t think I want to.”

“You’re a fool then” _the king_ says.

He bristles, the insult like salt upon an open wound, but before he can even start to form an answer, _he_ cuts him off: “At the end, you’ll have done something song worthy, but you’ll be dead, and your people will be left suffering without a guide”.

_He cannot tolerate this any longer._

“And pray tell _Your Majesty_ ” he spits out, “how is that different from what _you_ did? You left in a stupid attempt to parley with _Morgoth_!”

Cold eyes meet his fire-filled ones, and never leave while dealing the final blow to his heart:

“You’re right, it was a rather foolish attempt,” the king says and stand up, “but the difference is that I left leaving behind a lot of spares. I suggest you start creating some if you want to continue with that hero complex of yours.” He turns his back on him. “You’re dismissed.”

_Who are you?_

Rage, pure, blinding rage clouds his judgment, and he coats his next words with as much venom as he can find in himself: “I should have heeded your plea and killed you.”

_For the first time in forever he leaves without looking back._

***

_The tormented face of High King Nelyafinwë was witnessed only by a dying candle, ominously casting the shadow of a bloodied crown on walls that hided a grief far greater than anyone could imagine._

_***_

Mere days later Fingon watches with horror as his cousin relinquishes his crown and birth right to his father, shedding the last vestige of Nelyafinwë and cloaking himself with those of Maedhros, and finally realizes what he should have since the beginning.

_What have I done?_

He shouldn’t have let go.

***

_Bards will sing about the fearless act of Fingon the Valiant, that unafraid and alone went in enemy territory to save his cherished cousin._

_No one will sing of how the heart Russandol fell to pieces looking at the retreating back of his once most beloved person._

****

****

**_Don’t you know,_ **

**_Don’t you know,_ **

**_There must be (plump green) flourishing leaves and (lean red) fallen flowers._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I always enjoy reading about different takes and perspectives of the characters of the Silm, and I wanted to try my hand at it. 
> 
> Maedhros is a king for what I’m concerned, and a better one than many: abdicating for the safety of his people, for peace, is what a true ruler would do, even if it meant to be scorned by the rest. I wanted, in some very contorted way, to write about him in this vestige (and in the meantime try to portray one of my head-canon for him: he always putting the others wellbeing before his own, even when it means destroying himself in the process). 
> 
> I have so many feels about these characters, and so few words to try to evoke them… I really hope I didn’t make a mess of things. 
> 
> About the different names I used, I tried to refer to the characters using the name that most seemed appropriate for the situation (Nelyafinwë when Maedhros put on his “Uncaring High King” mask, Maedhros for when he cut all ties with his previous life, Russandol at the end, because I’m going with the head-canon I found in many fics on this fandom that was Fingon to give him the nickname, and I think that for Mae it encompassed everything Fingon is to him, so I thought it perfect for the heartbreaking moment). 
> 
> Alas, if you’d be so nice to leave your thoughts on the subject, you’d make this author very happy! I’ll gladly accept constructive critics, but not hate-comments. 
> 
> Ps: I was thinking about adding a second chapter with Maedhros’ POV (ah!), what do you think?


End file.
